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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016396">Freedom's Just Another Word</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermin_Disciple/pseuds/Vermin_Disciple'>Vermin_Disciple</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Elim Garak, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s05e15 By Inferno's Light, Expands on a flashback from another fic but can be read independently, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Snark, Top Julian Bashir, Trektober 2020, Trektober Day 15: Comfort Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:15:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermin_Disciple/pseuds/Vermin_Disciple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“My dear Doctor, even a good imitation is still just an imitation,” said Garak. “It exists only on borrowed substance. Your substance is </em>real<em>, and entirely your own.”</em></p><p><em>Julian’s expression turned stricken. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped. Then he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, and said, “I’m sorry, Garak. I’m so… wrung out, I hardly know what I’m saying. I do know I’m being unreasonable about this. If even the </em>spy<em> I have lunch with every week didn’t notice the difference, how much should I expect from anyone else?”</em></p><p><em>That </em>stung<em>, and Garak found he could not respond immediately. When he did, the words did not come easily. “The tragedy of it is, Doctor, I <em>did</em> notice. I merely… misinterpreted.”</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trektober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Freedom's Just Another Word</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This expands on one of the flashback chapters in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331495/chapters/58665778">Tell Me You See Me</a>, specifically <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331495/chapters/61862446">Interlude: Falling Into Nothingness, or Flying Into Something So Sublime</a>, so if you've read that you will probably recognize a few lines of dialogue here. (But most of this is new material.) Since it's set a few years earlier than the other works in my AU verse, it also doesn't require any of the additional context of that AU, so I'm leaving it as a standalone (for now, anyway). </p><p>When I was working on what eventually coalesced into the second Interlude, I’d written some material from Garak’s POV that I didn’t end up using, and I thought I might just add a bit to turn it into a complete scene and post it for one of the relevant Trektober prompts. Then it took over my brain, grew to five times its intended size, and refused to let me write anything else until I finished it. </p><p>Title is from “Me and Bobby McGee,” because I wrote a line similar to the lyric in question and then couldn’t get the song out of my head. (Specifically, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-J7mLyD3yc">the version sung by the songwriter, Kris Kristofferson</a>, which has a raw and achy melancholy to it that the better known covers lack.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garak wasn’t asleep when the door chimed, but he was in bed, and not much inclined to move. He’d hacked the security feed outside his quarters and could easily check who was calling on him at this hour, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. Most of the people who cared enough to try and assassinate him were dead, and wouldn’t knock first. There was no one on the station he particularly wanted to see.</p><p>It could be Tora Ziyal, who had already extracted a promise of breakfast with him in the replimat tomorrow. Showing up at his quarters in the middle of the night did not seem like her style, but it didn’t pay to write off anyone as predictable, especially someone of Dukat’s lineage. He would not give her what she thought she wanted nor did he wish to cause her further disappointment, so staying put until she gave up was probably the best option available.</p><p>The door chime sounded again.</p><p>It <em>could</em> be Julian Bashir.</p><p>Did he <em>want </em>it to be Julian?</p><p>(Garak only called him by his first name in the privacy of his own head. The first time they had lunch together, Julian had invited him to call him that, and Garak had persisted in calling him Dr. Bashir, and then lent him a Cardassian novel in which the appropriate use of first names just happened to be a plot point.)</p><p>He’d spent the last month thinking that Julian had finally grown weary of him. But that had been the Changeling. Which was worse: the resignation he’d felt at losing Julian’s friendship or the awful self-reproach at having failed to notice the impostor?</p><p>At the interment camp, the <em>real</em> Julian had said <em>I'm glad you came. </em>The real Julian had looked crushed when he proclaimed sentiment the greatest weakness of all. <em>If that's true, it's a lesson I'd rather not learn.</em></p><p>More often than he would ever admit, Garak failed to take his own lessons to heart.</p><p>The door chimed once more. He didn’t have time to check. He pulled a robe over his sleeping tunic and wondered at how rash he was getting in his old age.</p><p>“Dr. Bashir! To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>Julian looked dreadful. Oh, he’d shaved and showered since their return, and he’d traded his grimy old uniform (never flattering at the best of times) for a pair of clean pajamas in a pleasant shade of blue. But Garak knew to look beyond surface details, and his young friend looked haggard and drawn, and older than Garak had ever seen him, his eyes wild and haunted.</p><p>“Can I come in?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Julian walked to the middle of the room and stood there, blinking dazedly, eyes darting around as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was.</p><p>“I, uh. I couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>When no elaboration seemed forthcoming, Garak said, “Can I get you anything? A non-caffeinated herbal tea, perhaps?”</p><p>“What? Oh. Yes, I suppose. Thank you.”</p><p>Garak took his arm and led him to the sofa, then went to the replicator and ordered two cups of spirapin tea. He wasn’t sure the replicated version would be as potent. (Mila always made her own with flowers freshly plucked from the garden.)</p><p>After Garak joined him on the couch, Julian took a sip of it and grimaced. “Garak, this is disgusting.”</p><p>“Yes, but it will help you sleep.”</p><p>Garak sipped his own tea, which was not quite as bitter as he remembered, and watched Julian out of the corner of his eye. A good interrogator knew when to stay silent. Some subjects wanted nothing more than the opportunity to confess.</p><p>One minute passed. Then two. Then Julian was setting his half-drunk mug down and rising — nearly jumping — to his feet, spinning around to face him.</p><p>“You would think that after five weeks sharing prison accommodations, I’d want nothing more than the comfort of my own bed and the privacy of my own room. But it feels so… tainted. It’s not even that he — <em>it</em> — my replacement — moved things around that much. But everything is just — too <em>neat</em>. A few of my PADDs have been re-stacked. There are clean sheets on the bed. It <em>changed the damn sheets</em>. Why? Why bother doing something like that? It’s not as though Changelings even sleep in beds. And even though I know that it’s dead, I still can’t help but wonder if I’m still being watched. Every shadow feels like it has eyes.”</p><p>(Garak had spent his entire life assuming that his actions would be monitored unless careful, surreptitious steps were taken to prevent it; and even that was no guarantee.)</p><p>“The second I woke up in that prison, I knew that they’d replaced me. And I was <em>convinced</em> that it would only take a few days — a week or so — before <em>someone</em> caught on. I have <em>friends </em>on this station, who know me well enough that no impostor could fool them for long. When no one came I consoled myself by saying that a Dominion prison wouldn’t be easy to find, let alone infiltrate. Then when you and Worf showed up I realized that no one had been looking for me at all. They never even realized I wasn’t there. And I just feel so — betrayed.”</p><p>Julian spoke with his hands, his whole body thrumming with agitation, crackling like a frayed wire in a plasma conduit.</p><p>“And I know, <em>I know </em>it’s irrational. All it had to do was attach itself to my uniform — it could have <em>been</em> my uniform for all I know — and it could have kept tabs on me for months, learning all my habits. Hacking into my personal logs.” He chuckled humorlessly. “It must have known me <em>better </em>than all my friends by the time it replaced me. Maybe it did a better job playing me than I do.”</p><p>“My dear Doctor, even a good imitation is still just an imitation,” said Garak. “It exists only on borrowed substance. Your substance is <em>real</em>, and entirely your own.”</p><p>Julian’s expression turned stricken. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped. Then he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, and said, “I’m sorry, Garak. I’m so… wrung out, I hardly know what I’m saying. I do know I’m being unreasonable about this. If even the <em>spy</em> I have lunch with every week didn’t notice the difference, how much should I expect from anyone else?”</p><p>That <em>stung</em>, and Garak found he could not respond immediately. When he did, the words did not come easily. “The tragedy of it is, Doctor, I <em>did</em> notice. I merely… misinterpreted.”</p><p>“You knew <em>something</em> was off?” Julian’s voice took on a tragically hopeful edge.</p><p>“In retrospect, it started immediately. We were to have lunch the day after you returned from Meezan IV.”</p><p>“I remember. I spent nearly the entire shuttle ride to the conference reading <em>Everlasting Loyalty. </em>The ‘everlasting’ part of the title is certainly apt.”</p><p>“I look forward to hearing your opinion about it in future. I never did discuss it with your replacement. Upon his arrival, he explained very apologetically that he had far too much work to catch up on, and would I mind terribly if he canceled this week? It became something of a pattern. The truth, Doctor, is that I spent very little time with the Changeling. It rarely conversed with me unless there were others present.”</p><p>When the Changeling had confronted him on the runabout, phaser in hand, Garak had been so… pleased. <em>Thrilled</em>. Because in that moment Julian was showing more interest in his activities than he had for the past month. Because Julian had figured him out. Because maybe this would be like it used to, when he could still hold Julian captivated with promises of intrigue and adventure.</p><p>“That didn’t strike you as suspicious?” asked Julian, raising his eyebrows.</p><p>Garak couldn’t bring himself to meet Julian’s eyes. “I assumed that our friendship no longer held your interest.”</p><p>“It knew you were a threat,” said Julian. “If it had slipped up, even a little, you would have picked up on it.”</p><p>“Even when I’ve failed you, you’re still trying to reassure me.” Garak rose and took Julian’s hand and held it the way he had years before, when he’d asked Julian to forgive him. “You’ve been such a good friend to me, my dear. You’re always trying to take care of me.”</p><p>“I’m a doctor. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”</p><p>“You’ve done far more than I deserve. No, don’t argue with me. Just allow me to return the favor.”</p><p>“I— Thank you, Garak. I know you’re probably the last person I should be dumping my problems on right now.”</p><p>“On the contrary, I would far rather hear about your problems than dwell on mine.” He released Julian’s hand, and his own felt much colder. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you need?”</p><p>Julian shook his head, smiling. “I really only came here to ask if I could sleep on your couch.”</p><p>“You’ve just spent weeks sleeping on a prison cot. What kind of host would I be if I made you sleep on my couch? You will take my room, and I will take the couch.”</p><p>“Don’t be absurd. I can’t barge into your quarters in the middle of the night and steal your bed.”</p><p>“I am offering it to you freely.”</p><p>“Garak, really, I can’t—”</p><p>Oh, he had <em>missed</em> this man. It was making him feel a bit reckless. “Share it with me, then.”</p><p>Julian opened his mouth, flushed, then closed it again. “Oh, uh.”</p><p>“It’s not a proposition, Doctor.”</p><p>“What if I wanted it to be a proposition?” said Julian quietly, not quite meeting Garak’s eyes.</p><p>Garak swallowed, and tried with limited success to tamp down the prickling sensation suffusing all his ridges. But no, Julian was plainly exhausted, and clearly not in a very rational frame of mind. “Then <em>tonight</em> you’re going to be disappointed.”</p><p>Julian studied him for a moment before responding. “And what about tomorrow?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t like to plan that far ahead.”</p><p>“Liar,” said Julian fondly. “Even your contingency plans have contingency plans.”</p><p>“I don’t have a contingency plan for this, my dear.”</p><p>That lie was one Julian seemed to accept, or perhaps he was just too tired to keep up the banter. Instead, he nodded. “Alright. We’ll share.”</p><p>Soon they were both lying in Garak’s bed, facing each other with hardly a hand’s breadth of space separating them.</p><p>“Garak,” said Julian. “Thank you.”</p><p>They were so close. It would take so little effort to close the gap between them. And then Julian, impetuous thing that he was, did just that. He sidled in closer and — embraced him. The position was a little awkward, and Garak stiffened at the unexpected move.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” said Garak, feeling more at a loss for what to do or say than he had all evening.</p><p>Julian didn’t quite relinquish his hold, but he did lean back just enough to examine Garak’s face. “Did I just violate some Cardassian taboo? Do Cardassians not hug?”</p><p>(This particular Cardassian didn’t.)</p><p>“They do. But in a rather narrower range of contexts than humans are prone to,” he said.</p><p>“This wouldn’t fit any of those contexts?” asked Julian.</p><p>“I have no idea. How often do you think I find myself in a context like this one?”</p><p>Julian’s laugh was more of a strangled giggle. “Not often, I should hope.”</p><p>Garak thought he must be slipping, or perhaps weariness had dulled his wits, because Julian took him by surprise once again, and it took his brain a moment to process the facts. Julian was kissing him. <em>Julian </em>was <em>kissing</em> him. Quite chastely, it was true, but with no hesitation.</p><p>Julian finally pulled back with a sigh. “We are going to have a conversation about this in the morning. Don’t think you can avoid it.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it, Doctor. In fact, I look forward to it,” he replied.</p><p>Julian snuggled against his chest and promptly fell asleep, leaving Garak to contemplate just what exactly he had gotten himself into (and how averse he was to finding his way out of it).</p>
<hr/><p>While he was still conscious, Garak had carefully disentangled himself from Julian’s sleeping form and tried to leave as much space between them as the narrow bed allowed. His subconscious, however, must have had other ideas.</p><p>The first sensation to penetrate his slowly waking mind was that he felt warmer than he had in years. This, it turned out, was because his treacherous sleeping body had plastered itself to an expanse of hot, <em>bare</em>, human skin (Garak dimly recalled Julian getting up to use the facilities in the early hours of the morning and stripping out of his sweat-soaked shirt when he returned. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?” he’d asked, as if <em>bother </em>was even remotely the right word.) The second sensation he was aware of, but likely the one that had stirred him from slumber, was of gentle fingers combing through his hair.</p><p>Garak reluctantly opened his eyes. One arm and one leg were draped around Julian’s stomach and thigh respectively, and he’d been using Julian’s shoulder as a pillow. That Julian did not seem perturbed by this did little to assuage Garak’s embarrassment.</p><p>“Morning,” murmured Julian. “Sorry if I woke you.”</p><p>“Are you inspecting me for Arvicolian mites?”</p><p>The fingers paused. “Ah. Would you like me to stop?”</p><p>“That depends. Would you like me to stop using you as a heating pad?”</p><p>“…No.”</p><p>“Then by all means, continue.”</p><p>Comfortable silence descended. Garak closed his eyes and resisted the urge to nuzzle Julian’s neck. He could almost hear Tain laughing at him from beyond the grave. But Tain’s death meant that Tain’s approval was permanently out of reach, now; perhaps it always had been. Julian was here and very much alive, and Julian had been willing to forgive him, even for deeds unmasked by layers of artifice. Julian had shown more genuine concern for his well-being during the last five years than Tain had in the last fifty. Julian was soft and warm and beautiful and he smelled intoxicating, and when he was on a roll he could out-talk even the most loquacious Cardassian, which was really quite impressive. And all Garak’s reasons for denying himself this seemed abstract and ephemeral next to the rhythm of Julian’s heart.</p><p>“It’s too bad I can’t give out prescriptions for this,” said Julian, with a contented sigh. “Especially to myself.”</p><p>“And is this what you would prescribe for me, as well?”</p><p>“Of course. To be administered daily by a trained medical professional. Lucky for you, I make house calls.” Julian demonstrated by wrapping his arms around Garak’s waist, while Garak’s own heart stuttered at the word ‘daily.’</p><p>“What could I possibly have done to earn that very charming smile?”</p><p>The smile widened even further. “I just didn’t expect you to be so <em>cuddly</em>.”</p><p>“I do abhor being predictable.”</p><p>As Julian adjusted his position so that their bodies were better aligned, Garak became aware of a certain <em>hardness</em> between his legs. Garak had never been intimate with a human, but they were hardly the only species whose anatomy was configured this way, so he had a good idea what it meant. When he shifted his knee, Julian’s breath hitched.</p><p>“Tell me, Doctor,” he said conversationally, “do humans often wake up in a state of arousal?”</p><p>“Yes, actually. The medical term is nocturnal penile tumescence.”</p><p>“Very precise.”</p><p>“I suppose Cardassian medicine leaves some ambiguity in their terminology. Perhaps you’d prefer one of the slang terms? Morning wood. Morning glory—”</p><p>“There’s no need to be vulgar.” He moved his thigh again until Julian gasped and clutched him closer. Garak took the proximity as an invitation to mouth at Julian’s neck. He didn’t dare bite it — human skin appeared too fragile for that — but sucking produced good results.</p><p>(Ancient Hebitian kings used to kiss one another’s bared throats to seal an alliance. Treaties of this nature were considered sacrosanct.)</p><p>“Is it true what they say about Cardassian neck ridges?”</p><p>“That depends on who ‘they’ are.”</p><p>Julian had the grace to look embarrassed. “Quark.”</p><p>“You’ve been discussing Cardassian erogenous zones with <em>Quark</em>.”</p><p>“He was involved with that Cardassian dissident! He’s the only person I know who’s slept with a Cardassian.”</p><p>“You think that <em>I </em>haven’t slept with any Cardassians?”</p><p>“Quark is more direct about giving up useful information.”</p><p>“I hope he didn’t overcharge you for his intelligence.”</p><p>Julian grinned. “So they <em>are</em> erogenous zones.”</p><p>Julian’s light caresses and gentle squeezes to the area in question were going to drive him mad. He wondered if the man even knew what a tease he was being.</p><p>“When did you obtain this information?”</p><p>“Ah. Three years ago,” said Julian, sheepishly. “I was really just trying to bolster my knowledge of Cardassian physiology. Just in case anything <em>else</em> happened that I didn’t know how to treat. I thought Quark might be able to obtain some information for me. Though I admit that not all of my questions were medically relevant, strictly speaking.”</p><p>As if to prove the point, he sank his teeth into Garak’s neck ridges, directly into his <em>kinat’hU</em>. The involuntary hiss this elicited was as much in surprise as it was pleasure.</p><p>“And yet, you did not see fit to make use of this information until now.”</p><p>“No. But it’s not as though you ever made a move on me, either.” He stared hard into Garak’s eyes for a moment, and lowered his voice. “We were always playing a sort of… flirtation chicken. Er, it’s an old Earth game, never mind. The point is, I was never sure if you <em>meant</em> anything by it. Well, at first I thought you were just trying to seduce Starfleet medical secrets out of me.” He shook his head and spared a smile for his past naivety. “Then I thought you might just be amusing yourself, and that if I ever called your bluff you’d laugh in my face and tell me that you had no interest in men or aliens or alien men.”</p><p>The fear was not unfounded. After he decided that Julian Bashir was too dangerous to trifle with, he might very well have responded in that fashion. <em>Oh, I’m terribly sorry, my dear Doctor, what an unfortunate cultural misunderstanding! <strong>Good</strong> Cardassians believe that sex is only for the production of <strong>Cardassian</strong> children. </em></p><p>“So suspicious. I can see that I’ve taught you well.”</p><p>“To your own detriment. If I hadn’t been I would have just thrown myself at you.”</p><p>“I’m surprised you didn’t anyway,” said Garak. “Forgive me, my dear, but even overt signals of disinterest don’t always dissuade you.”</p><p>“That’s… true enough, I suppose,” said Julian ruefully. “But we were friends. I didn’t want to risk ruining everything.”</p><p>“But you’re willing to risk it now?”</p><p>(Perhaps Julian <em>did</em> think their friendship unsalvageable after all.)</p><p>“I missed you. Some days I thought I might die in that prison, and one of the things I regretted was that I’d never even <em>tried</em>. And, well, Tain may have insinuated a few things that made me think it wouldn’t be unwelcome.” Garak opened his mouth, but Julian was already shaking his head. “No, I’m not going to repeat anything he said. I’m so tired of it all, Garak. <em>Elim</em>. I want you, and I <em>know</em> you want me. Can’t we just enjoy ourselves?”</p><p>Garak wished he could define this as mere <em>want</em>. He certainly would not have used the word ‘longing’ to describe his feelings regarding one Julian Bashir (or any other, shorter words beginning with ‘L’), but then he was a very accomplished liar.</p><p>Instead of a verbal response, Garak kissed him, and this time it was anything but chaste. Julian’s lips parted and he leaned in eagerly, all wandering hands and questing tongue. Garak’s own hand drifted down to traverse the bands of Julian’s briefs and pajamas, pausing to fondle his nicely shaped bottom before pulling the garments down and off.</p><p>Several years earlier, Garak had obtained some human pornography and been quite flabbergasted that human males carried something of <em>that</em> size around in their trousers (and virtually unprotected, at that). Further research, however, suggested that the human average was much more reasonable: longer than the Cardassian average, but not outside the Cardassian range of variation. For some unfathomable reason humans just seemed to favor extraordinarily large variants in their erotic media.</p><p>The example presented before him now had more hair around it than he’d seen in the holofilms, but in terms of size it was just this side of manageable, and he had every intention of putting it to good use.</p><p>“This nightshirt is Vitarian wool. It requires a <em>gentle</em> touch. You can’t just <em>tug</em> it off.”</p><p>“Well, if you want me to touch <em>you</em> — gently or otherwise — you should help me remove it!”</p><p>Garak undid a few neatly disguised buttons and took more time and care in divesting himself than he would ordinarily have done, just because he found Julian’s impatience quite titillating in its own right. As soon as it was off, Julian gave him an appreciative once over and pounced, pinning him down, planting himself between Garak’s thighs. A dizzying flurry of motion followed, flooding his senses: questing hands and investigative mouths, scraping teeth and probing tongues, taut muscles shifting beneath smooth skin. His <em>prUt</em> was descending, straining against the confines of its sheath, as the scales around his slit grew more pliant and moistened with the fluid oozing from his <em>ajan</em>. Julian was grinding against him, first at his thigh, then with his erection flush with Garak’s seam. Eversion would soon be quite impossible to resist.</p><p>“How do you feel about penetrative sex?” asked Julian, breathlessly.</p><p>“I’m told that it’s necessary for the continuance of one’s species,” said Garak.</p><p>“I <em>meant</em> you personally.”</p><p>“You should have specified.”</p><p>“Pedant,” said Julian. He tongued at the center of Garak’s <em>chufa</em>, eliciting a shiver, then continued, “What I want to know, my dear Mr. Garak, is whether it would be anatomically possible and mutually gratifying if I fucked you into this mattress?”</p><p>Garak dug his fingernails into Julian’s back as his <em>prUt</em> everted of its own volition, rubbing against Julian’s in the process. A mortifying lapse of control, though Julian’s sharp intake of breath was gratifying.</p><p>Julian looked down. “Oh, I wish I’d been watching that.”</p><p>“Scientific curiosity?”</p><p>“Something like that.” He tentatively stroked the newly emerged length. “Should I take that as a yes, then?”</p><p>“I’ll be very cross with you if you don’t follow through with your suggestion.”</p><p>Those tentative fingers grew bolder, more inquisitive, exploring the swollen ridges framing the seam of his <em>ajan</em>, then probing deeper when he found the proverbial doors open and the passage slickened to ease his entry. Julian kept his eyes on Garak’s face while he experimented, wearing an endearing expression of concentration.</p><p>Garak allowed himself to drift on waves of pleasure, too mentally drained from the turmoil of the past few days to maintain his usual level of vigilant awareness of his surroundings, or to monitor his own reactions, whether for the sake of exaggerating them or keeping them in check. Since his exile, most of his erotic encounters — few and far between as they were — had been about nothing more than perfunctory sexual release, always orchestrated with the goal of minimizing his own vulnerability.</p><p>There was no orchestration here. He hadn’t planned on any of this. Julian showed up on his doorstep in distress and Garak had wanted to give him whatever measure of comfort he was capable of and here they were. It hardly mattered that he hadn’t taken any of the usual steps, because Julian had already seen him at his most vulnerable. Julian had held Garak’s life in his hands on more than one occasion. Garak had gifted him with his most fundamental secret. There was a strange kind of freedom in having so little left to lose.</p><p>“It’s been a whole minute since you last spoke. I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned.”</p><p>“I didn’t realize you took such pleasure from the sound of my voice.”</p><p>Julian leaned down again to nip at his ear. “Oh, you have <em>no</em> idea.”</p><p>Garak did not get a chance to respond to that. Ever contradictory, Julian rendered further speech impossible by covering Garak’s lips with his own and slipping his tongue between them. He removed his fingers from Garak’s <em>ajan</em> and repositioned himself between Garak’s thighs until Garak felt the bulbous head of a human cock rub up against his <em>irllun</em> and sit poised at his slit.</p><p>“I don’t anticipate any serious issues with incompatibility, but if you feel <em>any </em>pain, I do need you to tell me, alright?”</p><p>Being skewered on the end of an alien organ wouldn’t rank very high on the list of grievous injuries he’d suffered over the years. At the moment he was more concerned that the fire coursing through his nether regions might devour him if Julian didn’t do <em>something</em> to quench it soon.</p><p>“Yes, Doctor.”</p><p>“None of that ‘doctor’ nonsense. It’s Julian now.”</p><p>“Yes, <em>Julian</em>. Of course, <em>Julian</em>.” He wrapped his legs around Julian’s waist and gave his buttocks a firm squeeze. “I promise to behave myself, <em>Julian</em>,” he added, rocking his hips.</p><p>“Oh God,” Julian moaned. But still he hesitated. “Um. I don’t know how it is for Cardassians, but for humans, er, sometimes— It’s just that I haven’t even touched myself for the last five weeks, and I’m a little afraid I’m going to go off like a Rigellian snapweed before we even really get started. I just don’t want you to be… disappointed.”</p><p>His concern was almost comical, heartfelt though it was. This encounter was already far more delightful than a decade’s worth of sporadic, pedestrian one-night-stands.</p><p>“Oh my dear.” Garak traced a line from brow to temple, where the ocular ridges would be on a Cardassian. “You needn’t worry about that.”</p><p>Using his fingers, he opened himself further and palmed his <em>irllun </em>as Julian finally sank into him. He let his head fall back on the pillow and arched into the contact. Julian pushed in slowly, breathing heavily against his inflamed neck ridges, and then pressed a kiss to the hollow of Garak’s throat when he was fully ensconced. The quiet tenderness of these little gestures and the softness in his eyes was almost unbearable. Julian brimmed with affection for others so Garak generally tried not to take it too personally if some of it spilled onto him. Yet he couldn’t help wallowing in it now, reveling in it, yearning to keep it all for himself.</p><p>“Does that feel alright?”</p><p>Garak couldn’t help laughing a little at the earnest question, which was probably not an ideal response. “<em>Alright</em>? I didn’t realize you had such a gift for understatement. Do stop dithering.”</p><p>“I don’t like playing guessing games with someone else’s anatomy. I could hurt you.”</p><p>“How do you know I wouldn’t enjoy that?”</p><p>“Well, <em>I</em> wouldn’t. Not unless it’s properly negotiated beforehand, and that’s frankly more logistics than I can handle right now.”</p><p>The tension of self-restraint was plainly etched in the lines of his forehead, and Garak couldn’t help but take pity on him. “I promise you won’t hurt me.” Oh, he might be a bit sore later — it had been far too long since he’d done this — but what did that matter? He tangled his fingers in Julian’s hair and drew him in for another long kiss, then whispered. “Just let go. You’ll feel better for it.”</p><p>Julian nodded. He pulled back, thrust in slowly, and again, picking up speed, and suddenly the pace jumped from languorous to frantic. Evidently, Julian had taken Garak’s words to heart, and slammed into him with gusto, seizing the opportunity to unburden himself. This felt like raw <em>need</em>, movements unpolished and lacking any finesse. And how strangely <em>liberating </em>it was, to be taken and consumed like this. How <em>exquisite </em>it was, to be stretched and filled and nearly scalded by that deliciously hot human flesh. And how <em>unnatural </em>it was, to feel <em>safe</em> enough with another person to grant him such unfettered access, such <em>control</em>.</p><p>(His physical safety, at least, was not in question — if he still had any heart worth speaking of, Julian was in a better position than anyone living to crush it. Garak had mocked that Shakespearean hero, Othello, for his gullibility, but privately he’d felt a pang of understanding for the sin of loving not wisely but too well.)</p><p>Then, just as predicted, it was over almost as soon as it really started. Julian drove in deep and groaned, muffling the sound against Garak’s shoulder. If his body had any notion of poetry or romance, then the sensation of Julian’s fluids pulsing into him and mixing thoroughly with his own would have sent him over the edge. Instead he just felt a bit slimier somewhere under the still throbbing ache of arousal, and emptier when Julian squelched out of him.</p><p>“Sorry,” mumbled Julian, into Garak’s neck. “I did warn you.”</p><p>“You did,” agreed Garak, petting Julian’s hair. He had lovely hair; very soft, the texture slightly different from Cardassian hair. “You’re a very polite young man. I think I’ll take it as a compliment. It’s been some time since anyone found me quite so overwhelming.”</p><p>That earned him a besotted smile. “Now that I find hard to believe.” He nuzzled Garak’s aural ridges and added, low and sultry, “God, you feel <em>amazing</em>.”</p><p>Not the most original of compliments, but the delivery was top notch. Besides, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been thinking exactly the same thing.</p><p>“Thank you. It’s always nice to be appreciated.”</p><p>“How can you be so damn calm about all this?”</p><p>“Many years of rigorous practice.”</p><p>“I can see that I’ll have to work harder at getting you discomposed.” Lying here flushed nearly blue, fully everted, hair mussed, skin drenched in alien sweat and <em>ajan</em> leaking alien semen, he didn’t think he’d ever looked less <em>composed</em>, however he might sound. And whatever pretense of calm he’d managed to maintain wouldn’t last much longer, not with Julian’s fingers closing around his <em>prUt</em> like that, and Julian’s voice murmuring in his ear: “To quote a dear friend of mine: just let go. You’ll feel better for it.”</p><p>He made his argument more persuasive through assiduous application of his teeth to Garak’s neck ridges.</p><p>“Lower,” he gasped, shifting Julian’s hand down to encircle his <em>irllun</em>. “Harder. Oh…”</p><p>What Julian lacked in practical knowledge of Cardassian anatomy, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm. Oh, he could so easily become addicted to being attended to like this, to being held in those strong hands. Humans evidently perspired profusely during sex, and the air around them seemed saturated with Julian’s scent as a result. The degree to which this sharpened his desire would have been regarded as hopelessly deviant by any well-bred Cardassian.</p><p>(Garak was decidedly <em>not</em> a well-bred Cardassian.)</p><p>Part of him wanted to try and draw this out, but he doubted his body would cooperate. His muscles were already tightening in anticipation of release, and the hand that wasn’t desperately clutching at Julian’s back was clenched in his fine Triaxian silk sheets.</p><p>Climax hit him with the force of a shuttle crash. Julian made more noise over it than he did, keeping up a litany of trite pornographic nonsense. In future, they were going to need to work on importing Julian’s usually prodigious conversational skills into the bedroom. But that could wait. Now, Garak felt shockingly content, and not inclined to complain about anything at all.</p><p>(Really, he was too old to be so undone by what amounted to a quick hard fuck and a decent round of manual stimulation. He hoped Julian never realized what power he wielded.)</p><p>“Do you intend on going back to sleep?”</p><p>Julian reopened his drooping lids to cast his eyes on the chronometer. “Mmm, yes. It’s early yet. My briefing with the captain isn’t until 1400 hours — I might stay in bed until lunch.” He shot Garak a sleepy grin. “Care to join me?”</p><p>“Not all of us can afford such hedonism. But if you allow me a moment to clean up this mess you’ve made of me, I’ll stay a few minutes more.”</p><p>Julian grumbled something in response to that, but Garak was already heading to the replicator for a damp towel. He lay still while Garak wiped them both down. But he glommed onto Garak once more once Garak resettled himself on the bed. Feeling more than a little indulgent, he rested their foreheads together, <em>chufa</em> pressed against smooth skin. Julian wouldn’t understand what it meant, but Garak allowed himself to pretend, just as he could pretend that this was something more than it was.</p><p>Julian’s eyelids fluttered and opened. “Is this <em>anshwar</em>?” he asked, sounding rather more awake than he’d seemed.</p><p>Instead of answering the question, Garak merely corrected his pronunciation.</p><p>“The word showed up in some of the books you’ve lent me, but my PADD’s UT couldn’t translate it, and I couldn’t find a definition in the Bajoran linguistic database either. I even asked Major Kira, and she’d never heard it, although I think she may have just been annoyed at the question.”</p><p>“I doubt it’s a word she’s familiar with.”<em> Anshwar</em> was a gesture tied inextricably to Cardassian family life. Even Cardassians who maintained some pretense about caring for the Bajorans they bedded or the hybrid offspring they spawned rarely regarded either with the esteem or obligation <em>anshwar </em>implied.</p><p>“But I did work out that it has something to do with the <em>chufa</em>, because of that scene at the end of <em>Meditations on a Crimson Shadow</em> between Ucalon and Pyrha. I got the impression it was more than just a kiss goodbye.”</p><p>“Like any gesture between people, it only means as much or as little as they imbue it with.”</p><p>“What does it mean to you, then?”</p><p>“It means that I’m pleased you’re here, which I’m sure you’ve already deduced.”</p><p>It was plain that Julian didn’t believe him, but lacked the cultural references necessary to refute him. Instead of trying to dig, however, he just said, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”</p><p>It was a mark of just how far gone he was, that Garak almost believed him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Cardassian vocab credits (let me know if I missed or misattributed any):<br/>-<i>Chufa</i> is in <a href="https://cardassianlanguage.tumblr.com/post/165952398108/english-kardasi-dictionary-version-061">Vyc and tinsnip's English-Kardasi Dictionary</a>, credited to teroknortailor<br/>-<i>Anshwar</i> is from AuroraNova’s <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278406/chapters/12181718">Altering Course</a><br/>-Cardassian reproductive anatomy has been borrowed from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip">tinsnip</a>'s <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479">Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology</a>, and used with my own modifications</p></blockquote></div></div>
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